


The Pond

by mrkinch



Series: Love in Wartime [1]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - World War II, Fear, M/M, Swimming, taking a chance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-03
Updated: 2012-09-03
Packaged: 2017-11-13 10:58:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/502785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrkinch/pseuds/mrkinch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik opens his eyes and jumps</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pond

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this beautiful, sweaty man](http://mrkinch.tumblr.com/post/26631210107/lunac7-oh-yummy-liw-erik-would-enjoy-this).
> 
> Invaluable beta by [Stewardess](http://archiveofourown.org/users/stewardess/pseuds/stewardess)!

Charles has gone off across the field to do God knows what while Erik spends several fruitless hours wrestling with family correspondence. Finally giving up in disgust, Erik wanders out into the kitchen garden looking for a breath of air, and for Charles. 

Restless and dissatisfied, Erik walks between the garden beds, weedy and unkempt except for the corner that Charles reclaimed, scuffing at overgrown borage and unwatered marrows with the toe of a dusty boot. At length he hears footsteps. Turning toward them, he is suddenly aware of how intently he has been listening for their familiar sound. He looks up just as Charles comes round the garden shed, Charles's skin flushed and damp, hair darkened and curling against his glistening forehead and vest plastered to his chest. He grins at Erik, wide and carefree in a way that Erik recalls but has not witnessed in a long time. In a moment of dual clarity Erik sees Charles, laughing before him, as both the boy he first knew, before university and the illusion of adulthood drew Erik away, and the man he reluctantly longs for. Charles was always sturdy but he is broader now, and strong. If they were to wrestle as when they were still in school, Erik might not have an easy time of it. 

The thought makes Erik catch his breath, steeling himself against something deep in his belly that twists and falls. He longs to call Charles's name, go to Charles and clasp his shoulder as he used to do, make at least some gesture of welcome. But he does not, even in this hedged and shielded garden. Instead he waits, hands shoved deep into pockets and heart thumping wildly, as Charles approaches.

Charles has stopped, one hand grasping the shed's door frame, and Erik's traitorous mind points out that Charles is almost close enough to touch. Charles is speaking, Erik thinks, although he can hear only the rush of his own blood in his ears. He shakes his head, clearing it enough to hear Charles's next words.

"Erik? I said I came round past the pond on the way back. It's lovely there, you remember. I should go back and give the dock a bit of repair, though. Come with me!" Charles's grin turns mischievous. "You still like to swim, yes?"

Erik nods.

"I'll just get a few tools, then." Charles ducks into the shed, and Erik is acutely aware that he has not said a single word, but stands, mute, as though rooted in the path. When Charles re-emerges, he looks closely at Erik, concern in the crease between his eyebrows, and in the tilt of his head. "There's no one but us, you know."

"No." And as Erik forces out a word, finally, he feels everything shift, the earth under his feet, the colors of the garden, the pace of his breath. His face changes, too; he feels the stretch that tells him he is grinning, and then heat in his cheeks as he tries not to, but it is no use. Charles's face clears and he grins back, bright and happy.

* * *

They take more than tools. Charles hands the pail to Erik and darts back into the kitchen, returning with bread and cheese tied up in a cloth, and a bottle of beer that he sets in the pail with the hammer and pry bar. They start off down the track that leads out of the kitchen garden and across the meadow, Charles in front. Charles's eagerness is contagious but Erik trails behind, feeling an unnamed reluctance that slows his steps. 

Erik has no chance to puzzle it out. The second time Charles turns to cast back a questioning glance, Erik pulls himself together, and his longer stride soon brings them side by side. They walk together companionably while the track allows, pointing out familiar sights to each other and kicking at pebbles. By the time their way narrows to thread the woodland, Erik eagerly takes the lead.

The overgrown path decants them at the little dock. Erik walks out onto the weathered planks to gaze over the pond's still surface. The place is much as he remembers it. Perhaps the bushes crowd the bank more closely and the overhanging branches grow more thickly, but the cool blue-green water shifting to brown then yellow in the shallows is achingly familiar. He is surprised by the great sigh that seems to well up from his toes. 

A scuffing behind Erik draws his attention, makes him look. Charles is undressing and Erik cannot turn away. Charles has kicked off his shoes and is skimming out of his vest, folding it over a branch, to stand shirtless in the uneven shade, narrow shafts of sunlight illuminating his profile, picking out his cheek and the slope of his shoulder and the freckles on his arm. His hands, broad and familiar with their strong fingers and bitten nails, are reaching for his trouser buttons. His intent, unremarkable for their former selves, boys who needed no clothes when they swam together here on occasions uncountable, looms dark and heavy, pressing on Erik from all sides, stopping his breath. The scene before him stills utterly; Charles's figure seems far away and unnaturally sharp within a corona of fractured light.

His heart is pounding and his thoughts slow, but Erik forces himself to breathe again. Is it possible that his discomfiture did not show in his face? It was only there for a moment, surely. At least Charles, who is usually all too quick to catch Erik's moods, seems not to have noticed. The pond and the dock and the surrounding tangled growth appear now as they always have. Charles steps out of his trousers and pants and hangs them over another branch. He grins cheekily at Erik as he saunters by to make a shallow dive off the end of the dock.

Charles's grin, bright, so knowing, and only for Erik, breaks something in Erik's chest and he curses his own willful blindness. Charles has changed much since they last met, yet not changed, and by his ease with both is showing Erik that everything can change. And Erik is still so close to giving in to fear and propriety, could still spend this hour sitting on the dock with rolled-up trousers, content to dabble his toes in the water. In a fury at what cowardice will cost him, Erik strips hurriedly, leaving his clothes where they fall, and dives in after Charles.


End file.
